


The Impossible Half Moon

by SlytherinSweetheart1



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Stranded, concussion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 05:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18276338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherinSweetheart1/pseuds/SlytherinSweetheart1
Summary: Sam, Jack, a concussion, and the impossible half moon of PX-Something.





	The Impossible Half Moon

Waking up next to him is always a ridiculous joy, half tangled in each other as they seem to find themselves on the long nights on the half moon of PXN-103.

“What’s a half moon, Carter?”

“It’s literately half a moon, Sir.” She answers for the hundredth time. The Colonel had hit his head on the Stargate landing the day after Teal’c had returned to Earth. Sam had barely managed to hold onto him, as the ground crumpled around them. The abyss of space stared back.

 

The Impossible Moon, as Sam had taken to calling it, seemed to be held together by some kind of Ancient device and hope. The Gate hung, partially, over a cliff edge. The ravine continued for what looked like miles and ended in a crumpling of rock. As the moon continued its orbit around the planet glowing orange in the distance, so did the particles that escaped the forcefield. An orbiting half sphere and a trail of rock.

 

Sam was waiting for another complete orbit, and then she would be able to dial back, or so she hoped. A few microseconds to sustain the wormhole. Daniel had gone first, and then Teal’c.

She needed more data and she needed to rescue the Colonel, and then, then she was going to catch up on all of this lost sleep the moment she got home.

 

“Jack?” He asked her. Now that was new.

“No, Sir, I’m Sam. You are Colonel Jack O’Neill.”

“My name is Jack?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You never call me that. How do you know?”

 

His words are slurred, but accusatory, as if his concussion fuelled the strange behaviour. “Because it says so on your uniform, Sir.”

It must be the wrong answer, because he turns away from her, and she immediately misses the weight and closeness of him. Shoulder to knee, they are pressed together in the crevices created by the side of the Stargate. There is no shelter here, just a dull roar of the forcefield, the crumbling rock, and each other.

Sam is hungry. She suspects there is a few days of water and MREs left, but then, she will have to risk making a connection and stepping through.

 

“Sir?” She calls to him, but he stiffens and pulls away further. She is too tired for this. Too tired to resist him and too tired to face a lovers spat with a man she hasn’t taken to bed.

“Jack?” She whispers, reaching for him. “It’s going to be ok, Jack.”

“I don’t remember who I am.” He answers back, curling again towards her. His arms are almost crushing, but the feel of him keeps the fear from overwhelming her.

“It’s ok, Jack. I remember for now.”

“I remember you.” He says, mouth open agains the side of her neck. “I remember the way you taste.” He admits.

That startles her. He shouldn’t. The Virus was a long time ago. They hadn’t been doing this dance since the very beginning, had they?

She would ask him, if he wasn’t unwell and if she wasn’t a coward.

 

“I want to taste you again, Sam.” He slurs. “But I’m too dizzy. Are you going to take me home?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to keep me?”

“Oh, Jack.” Her heart twists. The guilt eats at her. Regulations, honour, duty, but she knows, she knows deep down inside the truth of it all, if they survive this she is going to take him home. Always.


End file.
